Knowledge
by HikaKiti
Summary: 12/30 for 30 Day Challenge I'm doing on tumblr. John gains a little knowledge from Mycroft. Minor Johnlock. Could be friendship if you want.


_**A/N: **__This is Day... 12 of 30 on a challenge I'm doing on tumblr. _

**Fandom: **Sherlock

**Pairings: **None... okay, maybe a little Johnlock.

**Rating: **G

**Warnings: **My first ever attempt at Sherlock.

**Prompt: **Knowledge

"Tomorrow?" John sounded startled. Mycroft looked up from his phone – he was in yet another texting argument with his brother.

"Yes. I'm sorry, is there a problem?" Mycroft watched him. "Ah, you are surprised he hasn't told you? You think that – since you are _friends - _he would have told you. Or perhaps that it would be common knowledge around the police force? No, you are just disappointed because you had hoped to do something, is that it?"

John ignored Mycroft's deduction and turned, heading for the door. "Thank you, Mycroft. And excuse me."

"He doesn't tell anyone about his birthday, John! We haven't celebrated since he turned six!"

He left the slightly offended older brother of his best friend and hurried into a cab. He arrived at the shops some minutes later, paid the cabby (whom he was sure wasn't a serial killer, like the other one. God, Sherlock, now John's paranoid.) and walked down the sidewalk.

The baker's shop was open, and the pretty girl working the counter smiled fondly at him until he asked for a chocolate ice cream cake made by tomorrow morning, with the words _Happy Birthday Sherlock _inscribed across it.

"Who's Sherlock?" the girl asked, as if trying to be nonchalant.

"My flatmate." John said offhandedly, mid-way texting Sherlock that _no, he would _not _stop by the morgue and pick up the fingers of the man they'd just taken in._

"Oh." The girl sounded so disappointed he looked up. She had just finished writing his order down – slow service, here, apparently – and was now looking at him. "Well, it'll be ready at ten tomorrow."

"Thank you." John said politely, turning to go. Alright, one thing down. Sherlock did like chocolate, right?

John walked the street, looking for shops and thinking of what he might buy the man. What do you get for a man who wanted _nothing? _

John's phone buzzed in his pocket and he pulled it out.

_Why were you talking to Mycroft? -SH_

John rolled his eyes. He could just imagine the look of disgust on Sherlock's face at the thought of his brother. He'd make a snide remark about his weight, then they'd once more drop back to their phones and have yet ANOTHER bout of text-fight.

_Just asking him questions. _John answered honestly.

_About what? -SH _

John shook his head and pocketed the phone, waving down a cab. Why was it so much easier to get a cab now that he walked around without his cane?

He ignored the random thought that was and headed home. Sherlock was wrapped up in his bathrobe and pajamas on the couch when he entered the flat, looking like a kicked puppy as he curled into a ball.

"Is there a problem, Sherlock?"

"I'm so bored, John." Sherlock mumbled. "There's been no good cases."

"It's only been two or three days." John sighed, shaking his head and heading for the kitchen. He could do with some food right now.

"Why were you with Mycroft?" Sherlock appeared in the doorway, looking very ruffled. He obviously wasn't going to go through the trouble of getting dressed or brushing those curls.

"I told you – I had questions for him." John tossed over his shoulder, peering through the fridge. "Ah, Sherlock, I've told you to not leave you're frozen body parts by the milk. It makes it taste funny."

"You're imagining things, John." Sherlock sniffed, dismissing such an idea. Instead he went and leaned on the counter. "Tell me – what knowledge did Mycroft have to offer you that I could not?"

"It was nothing important."

"Apparently it was, if you went all the way to him to get it. He has a phone you know."

"Yes, well. I have this nosy flatmate, see. He listens in on just about everything." he said pointedly. Sherlock looked offended.

"You asked him about me." Sherlock said. His eyes cleared and he nodded. "But what about me that I wouldn't have told you?"

"There's no way you can prove it was about you, Sherlock." John shook his head. "You're just trying to get an answer."

"You're a terrible liar, really." The black-haired man shook his head.

"I'm not lying. What have I to lie about?"

"Me! You talked to Mycroft about me." Sherlock nodded. "I can tell by the way you're avoiding saying that you _didn't, _because you know you have no chance of absolutely denying it outright." he tapped his fingertips together, smiling behind his hands. "Now, about what?"

John snorted and moved to the counters, hungry and yet not hungry enough to make dinner. "It doesn't matter."

"I disagree, John. It bothers me very much that you talked to my brother behind my back. And about me!"

"Obviously not far enough behind your back, seeing as you found out not an hour after."

"Where did you go after speaking with him. Yes, answering that will tell me-"

"I went to Sarah's." John interrupted quickly. Sherlock stopped talking immediately, looking sour.

"Ah." he said shortly, pushing himself off the counter. "I'm going to play my violin."

"You can't, Sherlock. You broke the bow in yesterday's experiment." John reminded, rolling his eyes skywards.

Sherlock grunted and flopped down on the couch, turning on the TV.

John shook his head. Sometimes it was hard to remember Sherlock was an adult, and not a teenager with all the emotional mood swings they hit.

~.~.~.~

John woke up early the next day, but Sherlock was up even earlier. John found him sitting on the armchair with his legs crossed under him, a piece of toast dangling from his mouth as he scanned the computer screen.

"Morning." John yawned, footsteps heavy as he headed for the door.

"Tea?" Sherlock looked up. John shook his head.

"I've got an errand I've got to run. Shouldn't take long, I'll be back and make some for both of us then."

Sherlock had already gone back to his computer – or rather, _John's _computer. John shook his head and pulled on his coat, preparing himself for a walk.

Half an hour later he returned, a plain brown bag in one hand and his coat tucked around something wrapped in blue paper.

"Sherlock?" he called, heading for the kitchen when his flatmate was not seen in the room.

"You know it's my birthday today." Sherlock accused. John nearly jumped out of his skin.

"I do." John nodded.

"That's what you talked to Mycroft about. The parcel under your coat is probably a present, while the bag in your hand is no doubt cake. I can smell the sugar of the local bakery from here." Sherlock didn't look upset, nor happy. Just mildly curious.

"Yes, you're right." John sighed. "Don't know why I thought I could surprise you." he shook his head and set the cake on the table, having to push aside the jar of floating... whatever that was Sherlock was working on... out of the way.

"I don't have any idea why either. You should know better." Sherlock tsk-ed, though he looked delighted. "Ah, chocolate!"

"Dig in. Happy Birthday."

Sherlock obeyed, slicing himself a piece of the cake. Before he could eat it, however, he turned to John expectantly.

"What?" John asked.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Present."

"You are such a child."

"Mm." Sherlock shrugged, taking the offered blue present with a brush of his fingers along John's. He unwrapped it and a smile lifted the corners of his pale lips. "Brilliant. Thank you."

Wrapped in a brand new emerald scarf was a new bow for his violin. He set it carefully on the table and downed two slices of cake.

"John?" he mumbled around his fork.

"What?" John said in a similar fashion.

"Increase my knowledge. When's your birthday?"


End file.
